


Blue Jay Express

by radiowrittenheart



Series: Branches [3]
Category: Descendants (2015), Disney - All Media Types
Genre: (sort of), Adventures in Parenting, Black Markets, Cutesy, Domestic, F/F, Fluff, Mal's sweet tooth returns, Married Life, Oneshot, Slice of Life, Willow is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 04:30:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6689233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiowrittenheart/pseuds/radiowrittenheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jay didn't realize what he was getting into, Evie cracks a case and Mal eats some cookies.</p><p>At the center of this is a five year old girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Jay Express

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ruff_ethereal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruff_ethereal/gifts).



> I wrote some family antics just because.

“Do you have what I need?”

The statement, squeaked out and whispered, broke the silence of the morning.

“Sure do, little birdie.”

There was a whine and a pout. “Uncle Jay! You’re not supposed to call me that!” Scruffy, choppy hair fell in front of a cute little frustrated face, and there were folded arms, mumbles, and a turned back. “Do it right this time!”

“Or,” Jay mused. “I could just eat all of these snacks by myself and give the makeup to your Uncle Carlos. I’m sure he could use it for something or on someone,”

“No!”

Jay chuckled, holding the box up away from a pair of small, grabby hands. “I don’t know, Willow, now that I think about it,” he said. “I could use this stuff for my own personal use,” He raised an eyebrow. “How about you? Do  _ you _ have what _ I  _ need?”

Giving a quick nod, Willow held up her own container - see-through, full to the brim with cupcakes and brownies. “Now c’mon and gimme what I want!” she whined. “Before my mommas find out!”

“You’re a good businesswoman, Willie,”

“ _ Uncle Jay _ ,”

“You know you secretly love the nicknames,” Jay teased, ruffling the little girl’s hair as he swapped boxes with her.

Willow frowned, flipping the top off of the shoebox and gasping. “You remembered the ribbons this time!” she squealed, wrapping one of her tiny arms around his legs in something of a hug. “Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou!”

There was a shuffle down the hall and Willow gasped, trying her hardest to shove Jay away.

“Go!” she squealed. “Pretend you weren’t here!”

“Time for the big bird to fly,” Jay teased, doing a two-finger salute before dashing a few steps away and escaping out the window.

And of course by hanging out with her Uncle Jay, Willow knew only the best ways to hide and sneak around her Mommas’ castle. She tiptoed around, hiding behind a curtain until whoever it was had walked by. Then, using the secret doorway by the suits of haunted armor, she went down the slide to her room and landed perfectly on her bed.

Due to the super-fun impact, the shoebox spilt out in front of her, and she giggled with glee. Mommy insisted on no makeup before Willow was thirteen, but when everyone said she was a big girl, Willow realized that Mommy didn’t know what she was talking about. And Mama was the one who sometimes had to say “no” to the good snacks, like the super spicy chips and sticks of sugar that were apparently made by pixies. Also she had been begging for more pretty green and gold ribbons - for one could never have too many ribbons.

Another successful transfer with the Blue Jay Express. Perfect.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

“Our daughter’s buying things on the black market,” Evie said one morning.

Mal didn’t bother to look up from the newspaper at first, because really, who could tear their eyes away from the living picture on the front page? It wasn’t everyday Ariel got revealed of not being a true redhead. “How would a five-year-old get connections to dealers?” she snorted.

Evie lowered the newspaper, raising an eyebrow. “She’s your daughter, M,”

“Noted,” Mal said, eyes darting back to the paper. “ _ So _ noted. But seeing how you have no proof,”

There was a clatter - and Mal’s eyes went to the size of saucers at everything that had been spilled onto the counter. Lipsticks and eyeshadows of every different color in the rainbow, crumpled-up bags of chips and cookies, gold necklaces and who knows what else.

A soft murmur escaped Mal as she reached out to the items, only for her wife to slap the hand away.

“What?” Mal scoffed. “It’s impressive. How did you find all of this stuff, anyway?”

“I was cleaning Willow’s room the other day and this is the tip of the iceberg, my dear,” Evie trilled. “I’m more concerned on  _ how _ she’s getting these items than  _ why _ .”

Mal shrugged. “Probably just calling your mom or something,” she said. “You know how she loves to spoil her grandbaby. I mean, come on,” She picked up a silver tube of lipstick. “Who else would give her makeup? The snacks are a little questionable, but hey, no one can resist The Wavering Willow. If she pulls out that lip and quivers it, game over.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t give clever names to our daughter’s sneaky tactics,” Evie muttered. “It just encourages her.”

She groaned when her wife snatched an unopened box of Princess Scout Cookies, ripping it open and beginning to devour them.

Licking the creme off of her fingers, Mal shrugged. “What? These are my favorite,” she mumbled. “Like mother, like daughter. At least the little rugrat has good taste,” She held a cookie up for her wife, waggling her eyebrows. “C’mon, E, you know you want one.”

“I swear, it sometimes feels like I have two five year olds,” Evie muttered, taking the cookie and biting into it. “Oh, gross, lemon? M, you and our daughter have the worst taste,” She tossed the rest of the treat into the pile of odds and ends, then pursed her lips into deep thought.

“You’ve got that face on,” Mal said in between cookies.

Evie smirked. “I’m going to figure out how this is happening. And I won’t rest until I know,” she declared.

Mal sighed, shaking her head. “I’m just a bystander,” she mumbled. “What are you gonna do - find the box this stuff comes in and brush it for fingerprints?”

Once her wife’s smirk grew, Mal tossed away the box of cookies, her appetite lost.

“Why do I open my mouth?” she grumbled.

“Thanks, hon,” Evie trilled, placing a kiss on her wife’s cheek before leaving the room for her lab in the basement. “You’re the best.”

Mal sighed. “Yup,” she mumbled, stuffing one last cookie into her mouth due to frustration. “Which means I don’t want another #1 Evil Queen coffee cup for our anniversary this year!” The slam of the downstairs wooden door was enough of an answer.

She was getting another mug this year.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

She had found shoeboxes under Willow’s bed. Lots and lots of shoeboxes.

That’s what the smuggled items came in. Blue shoe boxes. Evie was no detective, but thanks to science, she liked to think she was. And why she had fingerprints of all her friends and family … that was hard to explain, but long story short, it was put to good use. Very good use.

After an analysis or two, Evie pulled away from the microscope and frowned.

“Blue Jay,” she mumbled.

Of course. Well then, she had a call to make.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

“Is it kind of wrong to swap a five year old baked goods for things her mothers clearly don’t want her to have?” Carlos muttered, peering into the tupperware container. Damn. Those cupcakes looked  _ good _ . And it’s not like a five year old knew any super risky spells or anything. The worst that could happen is them turning into animals for a few hours.

(Needless to say, being a Dalmatian puppy was great for Jay, terrible for Carlos.)

Jay shrugged, diving into a brownie. “You wanted sweet treats, so I got them for you,” he said. “Cheaper than buying them, that’s for sure.”

“I guess you’re right,” Carlos muttered, grabbing a cupcake.

And then, like some kind of cruel joke from the universe, a shimmering gold scroll flew in through the window and smacked him right upside the head. Once making contact with Carlos, the scroll unfurled and both men found themselves faced with the most terrifying thing in the world.

An angry Evie.

“So,” she spoke up, holding up the blue shoebox. “Which one of you is running an underground sweets swap with my daughter?”

Obviously, Carlos instinctively pointed to Jay, who glared at his boyfriend - smashing a cupcake in the other man’s face. There were a few yells, food was thrown and the perfectly good sweet treats went to waste. Evie waited for a few seconds, simply watching in disgust, before ending the call and letting the enchanted scroll fall at the mens’ feet.

“You have to make new cupcakes,” Carlos muttered, wiping off the smeared chocolate from his face.

Jay rolled his eyes and huffed. “Fine,” he grumbled, eyeing the frosting on his boyfriend’s face. “Need help cleaning that up?”

Carlos frowned, playfully shoving Jay. “No,” he said. “...maybe.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

It made so much sense. It made so much sense that it hurt now that they figured it out.

“I don’t wanna eat oatmeal, Mommy,”  Willow whined, stabbing her hot cereal with a spoon. “I’m not hungry,”

“You have to eat breakfast,” Mal retorted. She pushed the bowl back towards her daughter. “Come on, dinner from last night didn’t fill you up that much, did it?”

Willow gave an innocent smile, so charming like the Princess she was, and nodded.

“I don’t think so,” Mal said. “Go on.”

“Maybe she only likes her oatmeal sweet,” a voice piped up.

“Mama!” Willow beamed, standing up on her seat. However, she paused when her mama picked her up and snuggled her - usually, she got yelled at for standing on the fancy pillow seats. “Good morning, Mama?”

Evie kissed her daughter on the head. “Willow, baby, I have a question for you,” She ignored Mal’s arched eyebrow, and kept playing the simpleton act. “Would you ever keep secrets from me and Mommy? And don’t lie, okay?”

Dull green eyes darted between her mothers, and Willow frowned, smoothing her nightgown with her tiny, delicate hands. “I like secrets,” she admitted, trying to pull off the lip quiver that worked on almost everyone. “They’re fun.”

“Secrets aren’t good,” Evie chastised. “Especially towards your mommas. So do you have any secrets you wanna tell us?”

Willow crossed her tiny arms and pouted. “I don’t wanna tell you about my secret game with Uncle Jay,” she said. “He said we gotta keep it secret. That’s the rule.” She dramatically waved her hands as she talked, and Mal tried her hardest to hold back a laugh.

“Yes, I know Uncle Jay has something to do with it,” Evie said, tapping her daughter on the nose. “Nothing gets past your Mama.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re smart,” Willow mumbled. “You probably already know!”

Evie’s eyes darted up to look at Mal, who had both hands up in defense - she was simply just watching the adorable interrogation with her wife and their daughter. Releasing a sigh, Evie sat Willow on top of the counter, twirling the little girl’s hair.

“I do, but you have to tell me the truth,” Evie said.

Willow kicked the counter, and pouted even more so. “Uncle Jay promised me he could gimme stuff I wanted that you guys wouldn’t get for me,” she whined. “So I told him I’d bake him brownies and cookies and stuff if he got the things for me,”

Evie sighed, shaking her head. “Willow, sweetie, if your mommy and I don’t want you to have certain things, then you wait until we say yes, okay?” she said. “You don’t go getting it by other means.”

“Fiiiiine,” Willow whined. She paused, eyeing her breakfast. “Can you spell my oatmeal to taste sweet?”

“Just this once,” Evie sighed, giving Mal a nod.

There was a purple spark, and Willow let out a giggle; that strangely adorable cackle she inherited somewhere on her mother’s side. She kissed both of her parents on the cheek, hopping off the counter and taking her bowl into the seating area.

“Willow Raven!” Evie said. “What did I say about food in the seating area?”

Mal placed a hand on her wife’s shoulder, giving her the side-eye. “You might have given birth to her, but Willow’s definitely my kid,” she mused.

Evie shook her head, sighing. “I know,” she murmured. “Which is why I need to keep a leash on her.”

“Just wait until her teenage years,” Mal said, wincing as her wife glared at her. “I need to learn how to shut up, don’t I?”

“Lucky for you, that’s my job,” Evie trilled, giving a smirk and sashaying away in pursuit of their daughter.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are greatly appreciated! :)


End file.
